


Between the Teeth of Lions

by jesterlady



Category: Angel: the Series, Charmed
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Birthday, Body Modification, Crossover, Demons, Episode Related, Episode: s03e11 Birthday, F/M, Fantasy, Gen, Magic, Witchness Protection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 20:23:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterlady/pseuds/jesterlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cordelia Chase decides to become a demon.  That decision takes her across realities, but will the journey take her too far from where she truly wants to be and will she ever be able to make it home?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: Vision Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Charmed or ATS. A lot of lines are from either show. The title is from John Bunyan.  
> A/N: Nobody can tell me they didn't immediately think of Cordelia when Charisma Carpenter showed up on Charmed as Kyra, the Seer. My supposition is that they are indeed the same person, Cordelia's desire to be demonized already on her birthday going a bit wonky.

Cordelia’s of two minds about the whole situation. For one thing she’s got a splitting headache. For about one solid year now. And that’s particularly annoying for more than one reason. She feels guilty too because she knows the pain she’s hiding is more serious than she can handle alone but she refuses to let the people in her life know about it. She didn’t lose all of her pride along with her money. No, she just stores it inside her now and every new burst of pain in her skull is like another nail in that coffin burying it inside her.

Besides, the other side of it all is the glorious purpose she feels every time she has a vision and it ends up saving someone’s life. Every time she gets Angel one step closer to the redemption he craves. Every time Cordelia Chase does something more for someone other than herself. She’s happy now in a way she never was back in Sunnydale or even before she’d gotten zapped with 24/7 vision hell that one time. She knows the pain that is out there and the pain she’s currently living in is nothing to that.

So she looks at herself in the mirror and everything she’s feeling is two-fold, everything’s contradicting itself. Her head is slowly killing her, but even the grossness of her hands from cleaning up after Angel doesn’t diminish the inner glow of self-satisfaction. Actress or not, she’s good at hiding things. She doesn’t have to earn any awards for that, doesn’t have to bring out the speech Fred enjoyed so much. She just has to lie to the people who love her.

She slowly brings the pills up to her mouth and dry swallows them. She’s gotten really good at that. She’s not thinking about the lies today. She’s thinking about the good she’s doing. Period.

When she opens the door and squints at the new light beaming directly into her skull it doesn’t matter because everyone’s standing there with a cake and singing and it’s all for her. She’s the center of attention which she always likes except when it might bring attention to what she’s hiding. She blows out the candles and the only thing she wishes for is that she can live to do the good she’s doing.

She does get to hold Connor then and there’s nothing more guaranteed to make her smile. He’s warm and soft and smells like that heavenly new baby smell and the only feeling of discontent she feels is that little niggling urge to make her own babies that she’s convinced is purely biological and, therefore, completely ignorable. She’s Cordelia, she does that.

And Angel’s smiling at her, in that sheepish, bashful way that he never seems to do with anyone else and she loves it when it happens. It means he’s happy. Not too happy, mind, but just enough that the heavy burden he lays on himself isn’t too cumbersome. And he has a present for her. With any other male it might be one of those occasions where she has to smile and pretend she likes it, but Angel’s got amazing taste for some reason and she can’t wait to open it.

"Oh, Angel, you didn't have to do that. You have enough to take care of as it is."

"Well, I'm a champion. We do important stuff. Hey, and who's more important then-"

He’s interrupted by Wesley as the rest of the gang sequester around them with presents.

"You’ll have to forgive the wrapping. Some of us seem to have fostered a strange addiction to Scotch tape."

"Oh…what a cruel dilemma: presents or sweet little baby face." Then it spikes and hits her and she goes still as a statue, all thought of presents gone. This one will be bad. "Take the baby."

Dimly she can hear Angel doing the dad thing which she normally thinks is adorable but this isn’t really a good time because there’s a girl in danger and her own head is about to split open and the baby…the baby! 

"Take the baby! Take the baby!” She feels Connor being taken from her and she starts her vision mental checklist. Despite the pain she’s quite good at it. “There's a teenager, a girl, she...she..."

Cordelia can’t talk anymore. In fact she can’t think anymore. She’s simply blind, floating in a pool of anguish and the images are overloading her synapses and she’s not Cordelia anymore, she’s just vision…just vision…just the vision. 

But slowly there’s something else, there’s a light and a voice and it’s Fred and she’s talking.

"Is she all right?"

Strangely Cordelia feels fine. Better than fine. The constant migraine she’s been living with is practically gone…no, it is gone. She’s perfect.

"I'm fine, you guys. I'll be okay. I'm just..." Cordelia turns to see that she’s not perfect, she’s not where her body is, lying on the floor with everyone clustered above it, worry and fear on their faces. "…dead?"

This is not good. This is nowhere near good. Good has left the building and she might just be a little hysterical because even though it’s almost her job to deal with dead people, that’s her body lying there on the floor.

It’s a bit blurry after that, Angel’s yelling at her and Cordelia’s yelling back, and it’s not quite as much fun when he can’t hear her.

She tells herself it’s just some sort of supernatural deal and they’ll deal with it, but somehow…that vision and the ones before that… No, she’s not thinking about it. This is just some sort of backwards spell or Wolfram and Hart trick and she’ll be back to feeling that migraine in no time.

"Angel, is she..."

She and Angel both yell at Wesley.

"No!"

Though it’s good news to hear somebody else think she’s alive.

"I'm not?”

"She's still breathing. Her heart's still beating."

"Yes! But…if I'm not dead then..."

"She's just in some sort of trance or a coma."

"Like hell I am!"

"Well, let's get her over to the couch."

It’s too bizarre watching people carry her body. She starts to grasp at straws. Like funny-not-really-that-funny birthday gags. Gunn would so do that. Bet he got Lorne to help and what’s Angel saying about her vision?

"It was a vision, wasn't it? I mean, she just started saying something about a girl..."

Cordelia snaps back to attention because her visions are life and death and she doesn’t mess around about them. Not ever.

"That's right. She's in a house on Oak street, the middle of Reseda. It feels like we have some time here, but– but…you can't hear me at all, can you?"

They can’t hear her. Even Lorne, Mr. I Do This Kind of Mystic Crap For a Living When I’m Not Getting Drunk Off Of Seabreezes, can’t hear her and she’s so screwed right now.

Even more so because she’s alone, bodiless, and scared. And…was that a dark shadow that just swooped over her head? She’s starting to freak out past the point of her normal freak out point and that girl’s death is lying heavy on her heart like a two ton weight that she can’t ignore. She just needs to let them know…somehow.

She hears something.

Oh, Fred, don’t do that, don’t go there. 

"What's Seltrex?"

Not really important, she swears.

"Seltrex is a highly powerful migraine medication."

"Maybe we should get her to a hospital,” Gunn says.

"So they can do what? Do what they did last time, strap her to a bed and tell us there's no hope?” 

There’s a viciousness in Angel’s voice that only happens when somebody he cares about is in trouble. She should feel good about that, but it always scares her a little bit as well.

"Angel is right. Seltrex is potent but it doesn't cause catatonia."

Yes, Wesley, go ahead and make everything all about your giant head knowledge. Reveal everything that can incriminate the girl in the coma!

"I'm picking up some hardcore woo-woo vibes in the room,” Lorne adds, too late with his supernatural know-how to help her, thanks so much. “This ain't medical, kids. It's mystical."

Which actually does sound promising because that means Wesley will open his books and she takes back everything she just thought about his stupid head.

"That's what I'm saying. There is so much we don't know. If Cordelia is taking a drug this powerful in secret, the visions are probably doing a lot more damage than she lets on."

They should have just left Fred in Pylea. Freed her and all the cows, but just left her there. That’s Cordelia’s opinion and she’s sticking to it.

"This last one must have overloaded her."

"Don't say last! Okay? She'll come out of this. She has to."

She’s about ready to get sucked into Angel’s I’m-A-Champion-And-I’ve-Got-A-Plan world when he starts deciding to invade her privacy. Gunn and Fred snooping around her apartment? She hopes Dennis spooks them good.

Gunn and Fred leave and Wesley starts on his books like an addict, which, she swears, he’s almost worse than Giles. Angel picks her up and she tries really hard to feel some sort of sensation out of the deal, but she’s getting zip and she simply watches her body disappear up the stairs.

She’s got two problems that are interlinked. One, she’s having the world’s worst out of body experience. Two, there’s a girl who’s about to die. 

"Does nobody care that there is a girl in Reseda that is about to be fed to a no-eyed, three-mouthed monster?”

There’s nothing, not the ability to leave a message, not the ability to communicate. A girl is going to die, maybe two, and Cordelia wants to scream.

But there’s nothing but quiet around her, the silent flick of Wesley flipping pages, the distant hum of Lorne as he croons to Connor. 

She bows her head and she whispers quietly to herself because no one else can hear her.

“Please don’t let her die because of me. Because of my silence.”

There’s nothing to answer her but the faintest whispers starting to echo around her and somehow she doesn’t think that’s how God would be answering her if any answers were inclined to be given. 

She allows herself exactly three minutes of self-pity, self-doubt, all other self-related fears, and then she puts that all away in the back of her mind because she’s Cordelia Chase and that’s what she does.

Then she goes to see what she can learn from whatever Wesley’s doing. Following her body won’t do any good and she knows exactly what Fred and Gunn are going to find. All of her hopes are pinned on Wesley.

Who apparently isn’t considerate enough to flip slowly enough for her to actually read what he’s reading. Stupid British Watcher speed-reading!

But she catches glimpses and thinks she may have an idea. After all, she's a rich kid from Sunnydale, but she’s much more than that, she’s what she would term supernaturally savvy.

So she goes upstairs and she’s just in time to see Angel get the phone call about her doctor visits and she really doesn’t like the look on his face.

It’s not her fault. Not really. She’s doing what she does best, taking care of herself. Her present coma may be mystical, and, yes, the source of her pain may be too, but her actual pain is all physical and that’s what she makes Angel give her medical insurance for.

But she stands behind him and she watches him hold her hand and the hunched shoulders and tense line of his jaw tell her everything she needs to know. She aches to be able to be able to put a hand on his shoulder or speak his name or anything…but she can’t.

"Cordy…look, I know that you can't hear me, but there is something I have to say. You really piss me off, you know that? I thought we trusted each other. But you've been lying. MRIs and CAT scans? It's been going on for over a year. Why couldn't you let me in? I could have helped you. You make me so furious."

She knows why he feels that way. She would too. She would rant at him for his brooding, vampire ways and how he can’t ever let anyone in and then he would offer some stupid, noble excuse and she would kick his ass verbally and then he’d smile and she’d melt and then it would all be fine cause they would fix it together. But...it’s not the same thing at all. 

She won’t let it be. She can’t feel like it’s selfish to protect her visions, her gift, her reason for being here, her way to help him on his journey. There are people alive because of what she does and even if it kil- okay, not good to use the ‘k’ word right now, but even if it hurts, she won’t give it up because it helps people. It helps him. He needs her and he can’t see that because, for once, it’s not happening to him.

She has a purpose. She was chosen for this. Not her choice, but she’s learned to embrace it. All of it.

But her thoughts are thoughts for another day because she has to keep focused and remember her plan, remember that girl. 

Of course, if Lorne can just reach her psychically, that will all be a moot point.

"Cordelia's not in there. She's just gone."

There goes that plan.

"I'm standing right in front of you," she protests. Angel sighs and rests his head on his hands. There’s whispers again floating around her and neither of them appears able to hear them. She whispers too. "And…I'm afraid."

It’s almost like he hears her. She knows he hasn’t. It’s simply the righteous ire that flows up inside him when he’s done waiting. She usually loves this moment where Angel starts Champion-ing up and making demands. Within reason, of course.

Still, she really hopes nothing bad happens to Lorne while he’s out crossing gods and calling in favors. It’s all for the sake of that girl. Not just Cordelia.

She stills for a long time, watching Angel who’s watching her body. It’s a bit eerie and slightly disconcerting and more than a little painful. Also boring. It gives her way too much time to think about her life and her death and all the regrets and things like that and she does not want to do that. She’s comfortable in the denial stage of her trance, thank you very much.

Thankfully he finally falls asleep and she’s able to put her plan into place. She doesn’t dwell too much on the total weirdness of putting her displaced astral self into her vampire friend’s body. It’s hard to describe how it feels unless it’s like driving an unfamiliar car, but she’s pretty sure nothing will be an exact analogy so she simply focuses on writing the address on the wall. It’s really hard to control Angel and she wonders if that’s just her inexperience at doing it, his stubbornness, or something about his being a vampire. Perhaps a combination of all of the above. 

Maybe she should’ve done this while someone else was in the room, but it’s not like she exactly chose when Angel was gonna fall asleep.

Then she’s thrown out of his body and landing on the floor and it was all for nothing because Angel can’t remember anything, the stupid ninny. And Wesley has a whole new time frame about her death. Oh yay.

“I’m not ready yet,” she whispers.

Apparently the Powers That Be don’t agree with her assessment because a wind starts to whirl through the air and the shadows are growing where they are not supposed to be. She backs into the corner and sinks down the wall, more defeated than she’s been in a long time.

Also scared.

And then the demon comes with his mocking laughter and lame name and stupid jokes and current pop culture references.

"What is this? Who are you? What the hell is going on?"

"You have questions. I get that. And I'll answer them, too, but first we got to get out of here."

She really doesn’t like the sound of that. Even less than the idea of a demon named Skip.

"But why? Here is good. I feel really comfortable here. I-I like here."

"But you see there is a slight problem. You…don't belong here anymore."

"Because I'm dead?"

She dreads asking the question but she has to know for sure.

"Not yet. But you will be - very soon - unless you come with me."

She’s not done yet. She’s not ready. She’s said it about a million times now. And what about that girl?

"Well, I'll follow you on-on one condition. You have to tell my friends about this vision that I had."

"Sorry, no can do. I'm not a messenger. I'm just a guide."

He actually holds out his hand to her and she’s voluntarily touched a lot of demons in her time, but she’s still abiding by the usual rules about not getting into strangers with vans, though it might be more appropriate to insert an addendum to that rule about not going into unknown portals with demons you just met.

But she looks at her body again, at Wesley looking tense and strained at her side and thinks about Angel who was so upset with her.

"I don't wanna die."

“So don’t.”

She takes his hand and they leave the hotel, her life, behind.

But she wasn’t expecting the mall. No, not really. Not that she doesn’t love a good mall, but this is some sort of vision quest, no pun intended, and malls really don’t have much to do with the supernatural, despite the abnormally large number of demons she’s seen in them. The Judge springs to mind.  
"Why did you bring me here?"

"To give you a choice. But we'll get to that later. Right now there is something I want you to see."

She looks at the screen and is instantly transported back to that dock and the feeling of that first and only kiss. 

There’s definitely mixed feelings there. Some regret, a lot of affection, perhaps some lingering anger and hurt. Maybe even some guilt.

"Doyle."

She still has a whole lot of unresolved feelings about that time when it was just her, Angel, and Doyle. About Doyle himself. About what Angel means to her now. The visions have totally dominated every aspect of her life and all her memories so she hasn’t paid attention to anything else. 

"This is where it happened, big cosmic whoops. Doyle was never meant to give you those visions."

Excuse her? What did that mean?

"Then why did the Powers let him?"

She’s not sure she likes his answer. A lot of her decision making for the past while has been based on the visions being meant for her, for Doyle’s sacrifice meaning something personal for her life. She might need to do a lot things differently if what Skip was saying was true. If she didn’t die, that is.

And she’s not sure she likes the idea of the visions being some sort of last love-gift and the Powers not being able to do anything about it with all their magical, mystical powers or whatever. She needs to know that she’s been doing the right thing. That the visions are okay for her to have. Otherwise her own sacrifice means nothing and the big cosmic whoops is actually her dying without ever needing to.

She also really doesn’t like hearing about other humans who’ve had the visions and wound up with lovely holes in the back of their heads. Skip has definitely got great character witnesses though, she’ll give him that.

All of this is stacking up to be the biggest demand of Give Up The Visions Now that she’s ever heard and it might be a good enough reason if not for Angel and her desire to help him.

Apparently Skip has even more angles to play. The demon is a manipulative genius and she should know. He shows her the screen again and this time it’s the night she met Angel again.

"Your entire life changed that night. In ways you couldn't imagine. Indescribably painful ways, I think you'll agree. Now, what if the play ran a little different?” He starts drawing lots of white lines everywhere on the screen and she spares an appreciative moment for his demonic powers but, otherwise, despite the many football games she’s attended in her life, she’s confused. “What would happen then?"

She has no idea what he’s talking about.

"I'd, ah, score a touchdown?"

"Metaphorically speaking, heck yeah! Inside every living thing there is a connection to the Powers That Be. Call it instinct, intuition. Deep down we all know our purpose in this world."

"Are you saying that…I was meant to be an actress?"

"No, I'm saying you were meant to be an incredibly famous and wealthy actress. And the Powers That Be can make that happen."

"They can do that? They can turn back time?"

"They don't go for that…much. Think of it as 'writing over history.' From this moment on you could live the life you always wanted. No monsters, no visions, no dying. Well, not for a long time, anyway."

It sounds perfect. It sounds fantastic. It sounds like something Wolfram and Hart would offer her. But she can already see the catch.

"But no Angel."

She turns away from him, because that’s no decision at all, but he catches her shoulder and speaks in that Super-Serious-You-Better-Listen-Right-Now voice she hates unless she’s using it.

"Cordelia, I want you to listen to me. If you go back inside your body, you won't wake up. You will lie there, unable to move, unable to speak, until the next vision hits you and then you will die."

She won’t accept that. She can’t.

"But that's not fair. How's Angel gonna know to save that girl if I don't tell him where she is? He needs me."

Maybe she’s getting through to him. Except he grabs her hands and they leave the pretty fantastic mall and she’s hit with the sensation of hot, humid, dirty air. Air that she normally associates with deep, underground, creepy, demon-y type places.

Angel is there. Pleading with the air. He’s finally cracked and gone crazy, she thinks, except voices answer him.

"The visions are too much. She's not strong enough to handle them."

"Obstinate. It speaks and does not listen."

Angel yells now and she knows that tone.

"No, you're not listening! Cordelia is not a champion. She is a rich girl from Sunnydale who likes to play superhero. She doesn't have what it takes to do this! Don't the Powers get that? Stop whispering and listen to me! She's weak."

She’s not hearing this. In fact, she refuses to hear this. But the words sink into her bones anyway, lodging in her heart and mind, and she can’t shake the memory of them no matter how hard she tries.

"Skip. Get me out of here. Now!"

He does and her last sight of Angel is his angry face. When she gets back to the mall, she doesn’t want to think, but the thoughts are running through her head.

Angel doesn’t think she’s strong enough. Angel doesn’t think he needs her. Angel doesn’t even want to need her. Angel would make her give up the visions. She’s doing him a favor. She wouldn’t lose anything by never knowing him after Sunnydale. Not if that’s the way he feels. Apparently, he won’t lose anything either. She’s scared to die. She’s not thinking about the poor girl who’s occupied so much of her thoughts today. Instead, she just needs to get away from Angel, away from the hurt pounding through her soul. The choice is obvious.

There’s no sensation of change but the world swirls around her and Cordelia opens her eyes on the applauding studio audience and she smiles because her life is perfect.

She does the show and she does it well, taking the time to sign some autographs afterward. She chalks it up to the late night before but she has the feeling that she’s forgetting something. It feels more important than anything she might have ever forgotten before.

Her assistant can’t help, his obnoxiousness balanced out by his over-efficiency. Her mind can’t stop thinking however and she comes up with a name. 

On her way to the Hyperion she analyzes her day, her week, her year, and she can’t remember what would be different about today. Why today feels odd. She was used to things being odd back in Sunnydale, but ever since she came to LA, her life’s been demon and odd free. Unless one counted the being fabulously rich and famous part. She supposes that is a little bit odd.

But it’s been wonderful. Hard at first, but ever since that one night at that party, she’s been living an amazing life. Nothing worrisome about it. Until now.

The Hyperion is beautiful but she’s still following that niggling feeling in the back of her mind and the suite she bullies her way into draws her like nothing she’s ever known before. She doesn’t know why she has the sudden desire to rip apart the wallpaper but there’s an address underneath it and that tells her something is going on.

She’s never awkward, not really, she’s Cordy, but when the girl opens the front door she realizes she doesn’t have a leg to stand on about why she’s here. Being really famous will only get you so far.

So far to a demon-summoning ritual! She’s so over demons and even though she tries to get them both to safety, she ends up fighting demons once again. And getting bombarded with old crushes along the way.

She hasn’t thought about Wesley in years, but if his brain is still as whole as his arm is not, she’s gonna need his help to continue to figure out why she’s getting mixed up in this world again.

She explains everything to him while his partner takes care of the demon. Underneath it all she’s feeling a strange satisfaction as if her entire life all she’s wanted was to save this girl’s life tonight.

"Underneath the wallpaper was an address. This address. So, for absolutely no sane person reason I can think of, I come out here and whammo! Slimy monster fun time. What's up with that?"

"I'm not sure. I'd have to consult my books."

She has to smile at that.

"Some things never change."

Then she meets his partner, Charles Gunn, and they do the awkward reunion catching up bit which she really isn’t all that concerned about until she finds out there’s someone else from her past in town.

She’s always thought about Angel. He’s intrigued her since she met him and not just because of that gorgeous, apparently over two hundred years old physique. There was something really deep about a vampire with a soul, the capacity to love, the desire to make up for a past.

She got over the drama of him and Buffy fairly quickly and didn’t really think about it any further than that, but there was always something about him that made her wonder. Made her care about what happened to him. She didn’t know he was in LA, she figured he would be drawn back to Sunnydale and Buffy by now. She’s only kept in cursory touch with Willow since she left and doesn’t even pretend to care about what’s going on with Buffy and Xander. So, she’s totally in the dark about the Angel of now.

So she's surprised with the information Wesley gives her. And she’s a touch horrified. She doesn’t think that’s the right kind of life for anyone, vampire or no. She can’t help but think it would have been better if only Angel had had someone else he could depend on. She’s never called herself the most compassionate person on earth, but she wants to see him for herself. Maybe she was supposed to meet up with him and Wesley again. Maybe that’s what this strange feeling is about. 

"Cordelia, I want you to think about this,” Wesley says as they enter his apartment. “Angel's not the person you knew. He came to Los Angeles in pain, vulnerable, and when Doyle, his only friend died he…he retreated into himself."

"Him getting the visions didn't help either," Charles puts in.

"So, let me get this straight. Angel gets the visions of people who are gonna die, and he tells you, and you go out and slay, and…this is how you make your living? This has got to be the suckiest job in the world."

You wouldn’t catch her doing it. Not ever.

"Don't be shocked by his condition,” Wesley says. “The visions have taken a toll…and the isolation. Sometimes he sends us out to save people he killed two hundred years ago. So, why don't we just tell him you stopped by and said hi?"

That would be the easy thing to do. Just leave and go home and take a bubble bath and go over her lines for tomorrow. Forget about seeing Wesley and this strange urge to see Angel. But she can’t.

"Wesley, I've gotta see him."

When Wesley opens the door Cordelia is hit by a horrible scene. It’s not quite what she expected even with Wesley’s warning.

Angel scutters away from the light as the door opens and crouches against the wall, writing on it with his finger. He’s still beautiful, still untouched by time, but his eyes aren’t right anymore. He’s barefoot and his clothes are filthy. Chains hang down from the wall and the only comfort in the room is a thin mattress on the floor.

She doesn’t even hear Wesley as he speaks. All she can focus on is the pitiful creature in front of her. So different from the man she remembers. Something more than those memories drives her forward though. Something she can’t explain.

"No, I- I won't. I won't do that. I won't do... I didn't mean... I didn't mean... Only if it's dead. It's me. It was my fault. It was me. I'm okay. I didn't mean... I didn't mean... Ah! I won't run away."

She walks toward him despite Wesley’s caution.

"Angel, do you remember me? Cordelia?"

He scrambles away from her and cowers in the corner.

"No, I'm afraid. I'm afraid. I'm afraid."

"Shh. Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

"I'm fine. Fine. One seven one. One seven one. You'll see. You'll see, one seven one. My head doesn't hurt. My head doesn't hurt. Now I'm warm. My head doesn't hurt."

"You don't remember me, do you?"

And she wants to cry but she doesn’t fully know why.

"I was there. I wanted to die. But- but I was- was afraid to die. So afraid to die. One seven one."

"Shh, Angel, it's okay. Everything is gonna be okay."

She crouches beside him and leans closer than her comfort level and sense of smell would like.

"It was my fault. I was there. I couldn't do anything. There was nothing I could do."

"Everything is gonna be okay."

Because she knows now. Somehow, she knows, and it makes sense. It’s a horrible, terrible thing, but she knows exactly what needs to happen.

She leans forward and gently presses her lips to Angel’s. There’s a moment where everything seems to stop and she feels a surge of power, the same surge she’d felt with Doyle and chalked up to emotions and adrenaline, but now she knows she’s just received something back. She’s whole again.

She stands up and turns around.

"I remember everything. The visions…they're mine."

Skip’s not happy with her, but tough for him. So he doesn’t meet his guide quota for the week. It’s not her problem and she’d rather be dead and herself than alive and someone else.

“The fact remains that humans are not strong enough to harbor the visions! Period. Even the Powers That Be can't change that."

"Then find a loop hole, Skip. I know my purpose in this world and it includes the visions. And if the Powers That Be aren't complete dumb-asses, they know it, too."

She’s got him there because he flinches and looks away.

"There may be a…tiny…loophole."

"I'll take it."

"You may wanna think about that. The only way you get to keep the visions is by becoming part demon. The process isn't easy. It'll make your vision pain feel like a stroll through candyland. And even after the pain subsides the effects of the transition will be numerous and unpredictable. You may never be able to lead a human life again."

Skip looks really serious so she takes a moment to really consider that. She looks back over at Angel and it doesn’t even matter anymore. All that matters is him. Helping him. Having a purpose.

"So demonize me already."

"It was an honor being your guide, Cordelia Chase."

Hell yeah it was, she thinks.

Then the world disappears into multiple blue spikes of light that stab her over and over again, melting and burning her insides. Everything inside her is ripped out and shredded and she doesn’t know who she is. She’s being consumed and overwhelmed and remade and it’s so visceral and real that she’s completely given over to it with nothing to shield herself with. She’s transformed.


	2. Part Two: The Seer

Kyra’s been alive far longer than she can properly remember. All the eons just sort of blend together. She doesn’t really have any emotions to help the time pass and her visions are practically meaningless, little bits of information to twist to her purposes. Her fellow demons are as much a blur as her past. It’s all the same, darkness, fire, kill the witches, try to take over the world.

Even really memorable patches like when Zankou was around aren’t enough to bolster her interest. He was truly evil and she’d reveled in that at the time, even regretting it when the Source banished him. But it had been quickly forgotten for whatever pursuit she had been interested in after that. 

She’s left alone unless someone seeks her advice on the future. Her visions are always accurate and she is very good at interpreting them. She does like the air of mystery that surrounds her and how uncomfortable she makes people by proclaiming things about their future, enigmatically or not. She would never have survived as long as she has if she didn’t have a little bit of a jump. Her active powers consist entirely of shimmering and while that was a great aid in running away, it wasn’t an amazing long-term plan when it came to dealing with her enemies.

It has to be the isolation but she never really feels like she’s meant to be here, doing this. The demon bit is exciting sometimes and the visions are very useful, but there’s really no point to anything. There’s always an underlying voice in her thoughts urging her in different directions. Mostly she manages to curb it because she’s a demon and that’s what she’s supposed to do.

But she can’t the day the Elder shows up.

There’s something about him…something about his pain that intrigues her immensely. A father afraid for his son. A human being feeling emotions and acting out because of them. It fascinates her. And she helps him. No tricks, no dodges, just helps him. Being as snarky as she likes in the meantime because she is a demon, after all, but she doesn’t withhold anything from him. He doesn’t like what he finds but that’s not her problem and she smiles when he leaves.

Even if it had been an abnormal thing for her to do she’s sure she can use it to her advantage somehow. She has infinite patience when it comes to her visions.

It still grates a little bit that she’d been urged to do something almost…good. She’s not good, she’s a demon. She may not be the most content of demons, but it’s not like she could even really know the difference. She’s not built that way. So the next time someone comes for her help and it would do something against the Charmed Ones, she doesn’t hesitate. Someone with brains could do a lot against them if they were willing to be cautious about it. But Kyra’s never wanted the Underworld and she values her skin too much to do anything by herself. And she doesn’t have anyone else anyway.

This time it grates because she had been completely evil.

And then she wants to scream or rip her brain out because she’s not supposed to teeter back and forth like this. It’s not right. But that voice inside her is getting louder and louder, complaining about the dankness and dirtiness of the Underworld, the lack of anything interesting, the void of purpose in her life. And it just isn’t natural.

She has so many visions though and a lot of them are about good things, about good people. And she can almost feel their emotions, see life through their eyes. It’s a vicarious pain and pleasure she comes to crave and seeks to avoid. It’s a perilous position, she thinks, one that almost would place her as sympathetic to humanity.

And then she has the vision. The one that changes everything. It’s more powerful than anything she can ever remember seeing. It’s a world of avatars and humanity, light and peace and nothing that resembles her own life. She sees herself as a human, laughing with other humans, running through the grass, able to feel fully at last.

It scares her, but she starts to make her plans as quietly as she can. She knows this is somehow the end. Kyra sends her message to the Elders and then smiles because she sees her Elder coming for her. Except there are demons now…demons who are aware of her plan. And they come for her. She’ll always see them coming, but she knows it won’t ever be enough. Even she can’t run forever. Her hope has to be in the Elders, in her vision.

And so she waits for her Elder and lets him whisk her away to the famed Halliwell attic and she’s deep in the lair of the Charmed Ones.

“Ooh, I have got a lump that won't quit from one of those little snits. Are you sure you can't heal a demon?”

“Don't push it. I saved your life,” Leo tells her, all back to his high and mighty horse.

“Only because the stuffed shirts made you.” 

“You know, I still don't understand why you didn't just shimmer out?”

“And miss you coming to meet me? That would've been rude. Plus, I'm eager to make a deal with your bosses. So, why did the Elders send you, anyway? They know we had a thing?”

She winks at him flirtatiously and smiles at the panicked look on his face.

“We didn't have a thing.”

“Mmm. Trying to put that ugly past behind you. I get it.”

“Look, don't waste your seeing powers on me, okay?”

There was something about him. Something was different now. All she was reading off him she was getting from intuition, not premonition.

“Don't have to be a Seer to know that.”

She tries to change the subject and…was that the Book of Shadows? She’d kill for a look in there.

“How about you tell me why your fellow demons are trying to kill you?”

“The Elders didn't tell you? You know, you're hard to read. But that's okay. I like a challenge.”

“Just answer the question.”

“I'm selling them out for bigger and better things, and they're miffed. Not that they wouldn't do the same to me in a New York minute.”

“All right. Well, I gotta fill Piper in. The sisters find you up here, they're gonna kill you.”

“No, no. Actually, they won't. I've seen my death. No babes involved.”

Her grin vanishes as he leaves the room. Her death worries her. It is babe-less, but it’s also vague. She doesn’t like vague visions. They leave her much less wiggle-room to manipulate the situation. And this is her life or death she’s seeing, not just any old vision.

She has to be careful, but maybe she can get just one glimpse into the book… Stupid book charmed against all evil. Still, there’s plenty of other interesting things in the fabled attic. She can pass the time quite nicely.

Except she gets bored really easily. The attic is great and she comes up with at least fifteen ways to kill the Charmed Ones while she’s in there, but she’d much rather be getting on with the deal-making.

So she wanders into the hall and does a bit of harmless thievery before she runs into the two youngest Charmed Ones who typically overreact and attempt to throw things at her, even while she’s being nice.

“Leo, a little help, please!”

He does, at the expense of a family portrait and with much ire of his wife and sisters-in-law. She smiles, cause it’s almost cute.

They argue about demons and men coming over to dinner and the various mental states of each other, but Kyra’s mostly just struck by how uptight the supposed paragons of virtue are. Even demons have less stress.

“That surly one is your wife?”

“Surly? Do you know her?”

Kyra smiles broadly at Piper’s obvious jealousy.

“Who cares? Just blow her up,” says Sister Number One.

“You can't,” Leo tries again.

“Watch me.”

“Fine. Kill me. Who cares if I have enough to kill all upper-level demons?” Kyra offers her bait.

“I really think you should hear her out,” Leo says helpfully.

So lovely this Elder.

“Especially after hunky guy here went to all that trouble to rescue me from those demons.”

Especially when he’s glaring daggers at her for her word choices.

“So, wait. Are you telling me the Elders are getting us to save demons from other demons?”

That would be Sister Number Two.

They all look alike though Kyra knows their destinies like she knows the back of her hand.

The doorbell rings and Kyra can’t resist throwing out some enigmatic advice. She always speaks the truth about her visions. It’s not as much fun otherwise. But she controls how much she tells about them. Plus, she gets to get Elder’s wife all worried about her precious cooking skills.

She settles down in the attic, lounging for all she’s worth, and puts down all her demands for Leo to present to the Elders.

It’s all sugarcoating, inconsequential stuff. She only wants one thing. One thing that she can’t get out of her head no matter how hard she’s been trying. The desire for humanity, the desire to be more than what she is, the feeling that she’s missing something.

Leo and wife are fighting about their kids and quality time and all the stupid human stuff that makes her roll her eyes, but there’s something different about the two of them.

Kyra can’t quite put her finger on it, she’s still trying to figure out what’s so off about Leo anyway, but the two of them seem to be different than other couples. There’s quite a long destiny about them, that she knows, but there’s something so simple, so human about them. It’s tied far beyond their magical abilities or destinies; it’s just their together-ness. It’s beautiful, or would be, were she human. Something she wants to try once she is. Something she thinks might be good.

And when they talk about their kids, it’s sickeningly pathetic, but Kyra’s hit with a sense of memory, like she knows what they’re talking about. Like she’s somehow worried about a kid with a rash before and wanted to be able to spend more time with him. She doesn’t see how that’s possible, but she puts a pin in the idea to think about later.

Right now their little human drama needs to take second place to her imminent threat demon drama.

“On that note, let's move this along, shall we?”

“See?” moans Piper. “It's just endless. I'm never gonna be able to spend any real time with my kids while we're single-handedly trying to rid the world of demons.”

“Hello? I'm a demon you can get rid of. Preferably before I'm ambushed again.”

“Okay, here's her list. Go see what the Elders have to say.”

“Hold on there, sugar,” Kyra adds before Leo can orb out. “I've got one more thing I'd like to add to that list, and it's something only the Elders can give. And it's a deal-breaker. I wanna be made human.”

Their faces are definitely something to remember.

“What? Why in the hell would a powerful demon want to be made human?”

“Hell being the operative word, as in, I live there and it sucks.”

“You know what? I don't think you know anything. I think it's all just one big scam. How do we have any proof?”

Piper’s right to be skeptic but Kyra would be feeling hurt if she could because she’s got the mother lode of proof and sincerity and authentic visions backing her up.

Which is all moot once the Swarm King and some minions pop in and try to kill her. The security in the attic was dreadful and Kyra leaps over the couch to avoid dying and all. Leo vanquishes the demons and the other sisters walk in.

“Is that proof enough for ya, sweetie?” Kyra snaps, examining her wounded arm.

And her vision…

The initial vision, the one that’s her ace up the sleeve is unchanged, but her own future is looking less and less certain and there’s still some unknown voice inside her head crying out for humanity.

So they just argue over her again and what they’re going to do and she knows Destiny protects them a lot more than they think because, honestly, it seems to take them forever to do anything.

But she has to give them something to get this started because it’s starting to spiral out of her control and she hates herself, (not really), for pushing their buttons, but needs must as she drives.

“Okay, okay, fine. I'll give you something. A little enticement. Okay, sure, I have a little black book of demons. But I also have the skinny on a little thing called the Avatars.”

Sister Paige’s man Brody has issues with issues, Kyra thinks, as he obsesses about her words even when she makes obvious references to very fun things that he and Paige had just been doing.

“Can we get back to the Avatars, please?”

“I know that they're close, closer than you think. Could be here any minute.”

And that’s the catalyst that will spur them all into motion. She’s spun her dice, now she hopes they’ll fall where she wills.

They confab about her, not really paying attention to things like proper hearing distances, and Kyra goes back to perusing attic things until Sister Phoebe comes in to play babysitter/spy.

Phoebe’s the sister Kyra’s got the most in common with, after all. Even without active powers, Phoebe has her premonitions and understands what it’s like to see things and to know them beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Kyra’s looking at family albums and she gets odd flashes of herself in pictures like this, with people and a man and a baby. They can’t be true, but she wants them to be.

“Look at this. You're like a family, and there's, like, pictures of fun times and stuff.”

“Look at Wyatt. That's his first birthday,” Phoebe replies, going for the hand to hand contact.

“Yeah.”

“Are those my earrings?” Phoebe asks.

“Yeah. Sorry. They called out to me.” Kyra’s not really that sorry, she’s a demon, but she can practice the niceties. Besides, she’s more interested in the family pictures anyway. “You're so close, and-and you like each other, and you're happy and...”

“Happy and...?” Phoebe asks, putting her hand on Kyra’s shoulder.

Kyra smiles to herself.

“And could you push a little harder on that right shoulder? If you're not gonna get a premonition, you could at least work out that knot.”

“Can't blame a girl for trying, you know?”

“Hey, when I first started getting my visions, I had to touch people too.” She’s pretty sure anyway, though she also remembers pain. Lots and lots of pain. Blinding pain. “Phone.”

Phoebe’s phone rings and Kyra turns back to the pictures while Phoebe answers it. She’s not really interested in those other earthly problems unless it will help her.

Phoebe hangs up and tries again.

“I mean, not that I'm okay with you stealing my stuff, but those earrings really do look amazing on you. Then again, what wouldn't?”

Kyra means to draw a line in the sand here because there’s only so much she can do in this situation.

“You know, sugar, much as I enjoy the flattery and the bonding and even the touching, you're not getting anything out of me until you make me human.”

Phoebe slumps and nods.

“Okay, I get it. But what I don't get is why you want to be human. I mean, did the bad stuff just start to get to you after a while?

Kyra shakes her head. It’s more complicated than even she knows, but she can try to put some of it into words. That inner voice of hers she’s not telling anyone about, no matter how magically affiliated or good at backrubs they are.

“No. The good stuff did. In my line of work, I see a lot of good and bad, and the good's just better. Problem is, I can see it, but I can't feel it.”

“That's the thing about vision. It's a blessing and a curse.”

“Yep. You know, being a demon is about feeding the endless emptiness, and I'm sick of it. I long for the subtle notes in between.”

Kyra doesn’t even realize how much she means that until right this moment. She wants to feel something, to remember what she once knew.

“And the Avatars have something to do with that, right? I'm just not sure what.” Kyra just smiles at her. “Right. Bargaining chip.”

“Look, it's not like I'm being tight-lipped and mean for no reason. I can't give you what you want, or I won't get what I want.” But Phoebe doesn’t look convinced. “I see. You're not even sure I have anything you want.”

“Look, I want to trust you, I really do. But you're a demon.”

Kyra has a fabulous idea. One guaranteed to get her out of the attic for one thing.

“How about I help you with your other problem instead? You know, the thing with the cop. Uh, Sheridan. If I find her for you, then would you trust me?”

Pheobe hands her the pen and Kyra smiles. The whole thing is a snap. Going on an adventure with a Charmed One won’t be so bad.

It doesn’t take long, she is that good, after all, and then she waits while Phoebe makes a phone call and gets ready to go before she shimmers them to the location.

She is a bit taken back by the level of trust Phoebe is showing here, letting herself get shimmered by a demon with questionable motives.

Kyra’s just glad to be outside. It’s beautiful. Beautiful in a way she can’t even understand. It’s been quite a long time since she was above ground and, for some reason, that little voice is telling her she should be remembering a feeling.

Phoebe’s cop is a delicious bit of scorn, obviously not wanting anything to do with magic or demons. But the poor thing has been squabbling with his wife all week long and Kyra doesn’t mind giving him some free advice.

Then she lets them argue because she finds herself inextricably drawn toward that green grass. She doesn’t know why, but she starts to spin and she knows she’s feeling this. Not like a human, but, somehow, actually feeling the beauty of the moment. And it’s not enough. She needs more.

“Uh-oh. Okay,” Phoebe says rushing over to her, “there's plenty of time for this when you're human.”

“Oh, come on, take off your shoes and let me feel the grass through you.”

Phoebe is sadly reticent to the idea and they go into the building which is decidedly less fun than the grass. Kyra gets so many pictures of despair and pain and confusion that she wants to run away. She’s not exactly a cowardly person; she’s gone up against demons and…vampires before. But this place is horrible.

“What kind of place is this?”

“It's a mental hospital.”

“Oh, whoa. I've never seen this side of good in my visions before. It's so…bad.”

“Yeah, well, there's a downside to being able to feel things sometimes,” Phoebe says sadly.

“Well, I'd still take good that's not always good over bad that's never good.”

Kyra says it with a weird confidence that she didn’t know she possessed. She means it so very much. She wants to be human and good more than anything she’s ever wanted. Somehow she knows that she’s like that. She’ll take the inconvenience to herself if it ultimately means something better.

“Somehow, I know exactly what you mean.”

They find Phoebe’s cop and it apparently is a lot more horrible than Kyra knows because Phoebe gets very terrified for Paige and they rush back to the house where Elder Leo is flipping out over Kyra’s absence from the attic. Phoebe sharply brings him back to the point of Paige.

“You know, you could've waited for me, and I could've taken her.”

“I came back, didn't I?” Kyra says, realizing with a start what is different about Leo now.

She smiles to herself because it’s all so delicious. What a secret. And she’s only ashamed she didn’t read it before now.

“Because you need us.”

“And because she likes us,” Phoebe adds which gives Kyra a surprisingly interesting reaction to the idea. 

It might be called warm.

“Okay, are you two buddy-buddies starting to read each other?”

“What are you afraid of anyway? That I'm gonna tell her your dirty little secret?”

“What makes you think I have any secrets?” Leo asks, looking very guilty.

Phoebe has to go and bring them back round to Paige and Leo orbs out to get his wife.

Phoebe is obviously confused now about events and Kyra wishes she could clear them up for her. She likes Phoebe. A lot. But her vision tells her that this situation is way too delicate to tip her hand too soon. Her own life depends on it.

But she’s totally happy to id some demons for the witch. And there’s not a single one in the book that she would be sorry to see burned up in an Avatar Ruled World.

“Okay, so what I'm gathering is pretty much every demon in this book hates you?”

“Pretty much,” Kyra says. “Which is sad because they're my family. Well, I mean, it would be sad if I had feelings.”

She somehow has the feeling family is very important to her. Or used to be. Or…if only the voice in her head would be just a little bit more clear on what exactly Kyra is supposed to be remembering. That would be a big help, she thinks.

“Well, don't worry, I'm gonna put something in the spell about that.”

Kyra looks down at Phoebe.

“Thanks. You really care about what happens to me, don't you?”

“Yeah, I do, I guess.”

“That's nice. I like that.”

She does. Kyra likes the idea of having a…friend, someone to rely on.

They’re interrupted by Leo and Piper’s return without Paige and Kyra doesn’t even bother to look surprised that Paige decided to stay with Mad Man Brody.

But then they’re back on her.

“We need to get the information about the Avatars so I can use it as leverage against the Elders,” Leo says.

“You know my terms,” Kyra replies.

“Your terms are ridiculous,” Piper throws in.

“Look, what if I personally guarantee you get what you want?”

“Oh, I'm supposed to trust you now?” Kyra asks Leo incredulously.

Kyra tries to remain rational about the whole thing. But her death appears to be moving closer and closer and, while it’s better than living like a demon, she’d much rather be human. There’s still a piece of the puzzle missing but right now what she’s sensing is that the longing she’s feeling is actually more like memories. Which she doesn’t understand, but that would explain the flashes of connection she keeps having.

Phoebe takes a deep breath and looks Kyra in the eyes.

“Okay, remember how you said that you can sense that I care about you?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Well, I can sense that you care about me too. So, please, give me the information that we need.”

It’s a huge gamble. It’s so un-demon-like. But maybe this is where she’s been going all along. Maybe trust is a big part of being human.

“I can't tell you. But I can show you.”

She places her hands on Phoebe’s and transmits her vision. She sees everything that Phoebe sees as well as what Leo and Piper are doing while they watch. She’s just that good. It’s a little bit like having her vision for the first time and she revels again in its beauty. It’s even more potent now that someone actually human is experiencing it too.

Then the vision changes into something horrible. Her death was very vague before but now it’s crystal clear. She’s terrified, alone, in the dark, and Zankou is there. He kills her brutally and she’s broken into a million, dark, little pieces, absolutely unfulfilled.

Zankou. That’s very not good. Of anyone they could get to kill her, that’s not who she wants.

She tries to control her panic.

“Now you know why I'm doing this.”

“Yeah, with no demons in the future, you'd be extinct.”

It’s not the whole reason. No, she’s got a whole personal crisis going on, but it’s the only reason they’ll be able to comprehend.

“If I even get to that future, which, if Zankou has his way, I won't,” Kyra says.

Leo rambles on about choices and Phoebe’s worried about Paige and Piper still isn’t getting it. Which, Kyra can understand, seeing as how she hasn’t seen the vision and she isn’t Leo.

“Okay, hang on a second. We don't know any of this for sure and, even you made the Avatar future seem threatening.”

“Well, duh,” Kyra tells her. “If I made it sound peachy, you wouldn't have helped me. The fact is, I didn't see anything threatening.” And because she’s feeling particularly cornered and panicky after the vision… “How about you, Leo?”

“Okay, seriously, what is it with you two?”

“Are you gonna tell her, or shall I? I told you I liked a challenge. So, what's it gonna be?”

It may not seem like it but this is actually a…good thing she’s doing. He needs to come clean with his wife.

He doesn’t even look grateful.

“Look, apparently, what she has seen, is that I know the Avatars are good, because I'm an Avatar.”

“What? That's insane. What does that mean?”

Piper goes crazy and Leo attempts to reason with her and Kyra gives them a few moments of marriage time because she senses it’s a bit important but her imminent death is really more important to her.

“Okay, guys, guys, can we just put this on hold for a second?”

“She's right,” Phoebe says. “This can wait, she can't. I've seen her vanquish, and we have to make her human right now. She held up her end of the deal. Now it's the Elders' turn.”

“Okay, well, I can't exactly go to the Elders and say, ‘The Seer saw Utopia.’ They're not gonna believe me.”

“No, but they'll believe me,” Phoebe says and then turns to Kyra. “Piper's gonna help you get your stuff together for your new life. And if I were you, I'd go upstairs and get the dress that matches those earrings, because you're gonna look amazing in it. We'll be right back with the spell.”

That’s it; Kyra’s definitely feeling something right now. She’s…happy. She’s…excited. She feels almost fulfilled. She’s still missing something, but she senses this is the first right step to get where she’s supposed to be. She has something to do, something important.

And Piper’s being a lot nicer now that she knows what Kyra knows about her own husband. It’s almost what Kyra would imagine having a sister is like. A little bit nag-y, but always with your best interest at heart.

“You know, I don't think Phoebe would mind throwing in some shoes.”

“Oh, thanks, but I won't need them. Soon as I'm human, I'm hoping your guy will orb me to Golden Gate Park and I can finally run through that grass.”

She can almost see herself doing it too.

“Have you thought of a name for yourself?”

“Oh, it's Kyra. It always has been. It's just everyone calls me, uh, the Seer.” She turns and smiles at Piper. “Okay, honestly, now, how do I look? I've never worn anything so... fun.”

“Kyra, you look great,” Piper says sincerely.

“Thanks.”

Kyra blames herself because she’s not paying attention when Phoebe comes back into the room and sends Piper to get Leo with the spell.

“Hey, you look really great,” Phoebe says.

“Sure you don't mind me borrowing it?” Kyra asks her new friend.

“No, not at all. Although I'm much more of a black kind of guy myself. I think it's a lot more appropriate for a funeral. Don't you, Kyra?”

The warning bells go off but not quickly enough. And this is the moment and all her visions come crashing down around her head, changing too quickly for her to see clearly.

“Wait, how did you...”

She can’t breathe, Zankou is suddenly there, crushing her windpipe.

“Hello, sugar.”

She knows. She knows now. It’s all so crystal clear. And even if she can remember Zankou, remember the time they spend in the Underworld together, it doesn’t matter because it didn’t happen. What matters is that her second chance is ending. Her purpose is crumbling. Everything that happened before is being erased.

“Did I call you that ever? What I meant to say was, ‘Hello, swirling particles of scum,’ ” she chokes out.

“You always were amusing. But, still, I can't allow you to betray us all just to save your own ass.” 

He throws her to the ground and sends his power against her. It swarms and swallows her whole. Dimly she hears him talking and Piper crying out and Phoebe’s voice. She faintly regrets not getting to say goodbye to Phoebe.

But she’s in so much pain as all of her gets ripped apart, the bits of his power tearing off chunks of her very being. She screams and screams even though there’s no sound and she’s not even her anymore. No, but she knows who she is. She’s Cordelia Chase. And now she’s lost her second chance.


	3. Part Three: The Champion

Angel’s really excited. Things are finally looking up after the disastrous last few weeks with Darla and her second dusting and people tearing the world apart for his son. But Connor’s safe, as safe as the son of a vampire detective can be, and today’s Cordelia’s birthday.

He’s been planning this with everyone for awhile and he wants more than anything to give Cordelia something more than the life she’s chosen here with him. He can’t take the pain of her visions away or her lack of a life outside of him, but he can give her honor and cake and a present. He’d spent a long time finding it and he hopes so desperately that she’ll like it.

She comes out of the bathroom and her face lights up with surprise and joy and he can ignore how haggard she looks for a minute.

“I-I got you something,” he says and he loves the happiness on her face and the way she looks when she’s holding Connor.

Somehow he can’t picture anyone else holding his son and looking that right.

They’re interrupted by the others with presents and he has to roll his eyes at Cordelia’s words when she tells him to take the baby.

“You’re choosing birthday gifts over my son?”

“Take the baby. Take the baby!” she cries and he grabs his son as Cordelia mumbles something about a girl and then convulses and convulses and falls to the floor and doesn’t wake up.

Angel thrusts his baby into Wesley’s arms and holds Cordelia trying to wake her, fearing the worst. It can’t be, it can’t be. He won’t let it be.

But she’s breathing. Her heart’s beating. He would sigh in relief if he could

“Angel, is she…?” Wesley asks tightly.

“No!” Angel snaps.

He and Gunn carry her over to the couch and lay her down gently. She looks smaller than he’s ever seen her before.

He’s worried because she must have had a vision. She said something about a girl. They’re interrupted by Lorne’s entrance.  
"Maybe we should get her to a hospital,” Gunn says.

Angel almost clutches her to him possessively. He doesn’t like Cordelia in hospitals. He’ll never forget how utterly furious it had made him to see her there last time, eyes open and staring at some unseen horror, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"So they can do what? Do what they did last time, strap her to a bed and tell us there's no hope?”

Fred’s discovery of the Seltrax medication does nothing to alleviate the bands of fear tightening around his shriveled heart. It only worsens them. Cordelia’s obviously hiding something. Something big. 

And then Lorne confirms that this is a mystical problem. But Angel still isn’t going to take anything for granted. He will cover every angle possible with everything in his power.

“That's what I'm saying,” Fred argues. “There is so much we don't know. If Cordelia is taking a drug this powerful in secret, the visions are probably doing a lot more damage than she lets on."

That’s what Angel fears and that’s why anger is slowly tingeing his worry with red.

"This last one must have overloaded her."

"Don't say last! Okay? She'll come out of this. She has to,” Angel snaps at Gunn again.

Why is the man saying such stupid things? Angel doesn’t want to hear about anything that might involve Cordelia being taken away from him.

But it doesn’t matter because right now they’re going to do something. He starts issuing orders, trying to cover all the bases. He sends Fred and Gunn over to Cordelia’s to find out what she may have been hiding. He sends Wesley into his books to cover the mystical angle. Lorne takes care of Connor for him and he carries Cordelia upstairs holding her to him as gently as he can. He puts her in his bed and then sits here.

He’s thinking so many different thoughts. About how much has changed since he met her and how much she means to him. About how angry he is with her.

He holds her hand and hopes desperately that she will be restored to him.

His phone rings and he answers it almost absently.

It’s Fred and she confirms his worst fears.

“Angel, we found MRIs and CAT scans. Over a year old. There’s a lot of other migraine medication too. Dennis helped us find it. It’s…serious, Angel.”

“Thanks,” he says. “Come on home.”

He doesn’t trust himself to say anymore. He keeps a tight hold of Cordelia’s hand and wishes she was there so he could shake some sense into her. 

"Cordy…look, I know that you can't hear me, but there is something I have to say. You really piss me off, you know that? I thought we trusted each other. But you've been lying. MRIs and CAT scans? It's been going on for over a year. Why couldn't you let me in? I could have helped you. You make me so furious."

He’s hurt. So very hurt. How could she do this to him after everything they’ve been through together? He’s put her through so much and now she’s taking after him more than he’d like because she’s hiding her misery and soldiering on anyway. It’s admirable in one way, but downright detestable as to how much of a lack of trust in him it shows. And he just wants to be able to tell her so.  
Lorne comes in and tries to contact her, but there’s nothing there. Nothing to show Cordelia Chase lives in that body.

The slow rage that’s been building in him overflows and he gets right into Lorne’s face.

"No. This isn't gonna happen. I don't care how many favors you have to call in. I don't care how many gods you have to cross. You have a connection to the Powers That Be and you're gonna find me a way to talk to them. Understand?"

"A-angel honey, it-it's not that easy. I mean, contacting the Powers is a muddy, not to mention dangerous, area. But this is a- this is a bit much to ask."

“I’m not asking.”

Angel doesn’t care. Not at all. In this moment he’d sacrifice anything except any more of his people to get Cordelia back. Lorne will be fine, he just has to use his demonic know-how and they’d get to the Powers and they’d heal her and it would all be fine.

He’s exhausted with fear and worry and anger but he refuses to leave her side, so he sits there and thinks about Cordelia and her smile when she gets the better of him and the way she obsesses over the books and the endless shopping trips she takes with his credit card and the ruthless determination she shows when she’s training with him and the beautiful picture she makes when she’s holding his son. He’s so petrified of losing all of those special things.

He doesn’t know how he falls asleep but he dreams of Cordelia. She’s there in the room with him and trying to tell him something. She’s so close like she’s inside his mind and he feels like she’s directing him somewhere. Then there’s a jolt and he’s on the floor with the distinct lack of any Cordelia and a lingering sense of something important.

He’s disoriented and he tells Wesley about his dream but there’s nothing solid there. Instead Wesley informs him that the deterioration showing in Cordelia’s scans show she’s dying even without her mystical coma. 

When Wesley takes over watcher duties Angel doesn’t go rest like he’s supposed to, he goes downstairs and goes over the scans himself, inwardly cursing at his helplessness and Cordelia’s stubbornness.

When Lorne gets back, horn torn and bloody and bruised, he feels a stab of guilt, but he can’t bring himself to act on it now because he’s too worried about Cordelia and frustrated that Lorne can’t even speak about it.

He rushes off to the mystical coordinates and gets thrown into a pit with fire and sand.

He screams his indignation and anger to the void and only voices come back to him.

"I'm not going anywhere until I get my message to the Powers That Be. My friend Cordelia has visions given to her by the Powers. They're killing her. I want the Powers to take them back. Let her go. She's suffered enough!"

Then he's flying across the room, smashing into the walls. And that's the fun part of his day.

They don’t care about her, they don’t care about him, they don’t care about anything but their precious Conduit and how they rule the world. Well, fine, he’ll speak to them in language they can understand, about how this is affecting their path for him.

"The visions are too much. She's not strong enough to handle them."

"Obstinate. It speaks and does not listen."

He yells even louder.

"No, you're not listening! Cordelia is not a champion. She is a rich girl from Sunnydale who likes to play superhero. She doesn't have what it takes to do this! Don't the Powers get that? Stop whispering and listen to me! She's weak.” He pauses and speaks softly, full to the brim with sorrow. “You're killing her. She’s unconscious and she’s alone. Who knows if she's in pain?"

"It is angry. It is afraid."

"I'm more afraid of her dying than she is. What is that?"

Angel can't analyze his thoughts. Suddenly they're too raw, too personal, to reality changing for him to handle. Not that he gets the chance to.

“Enough!”

He’s ejected from the Conduit’s presence and he stands outside yelling for two hours before he finally goes home, more to check on Cordelia than because he’s given up.

He’ll never give up. Not till he’s dust.

There’s no change at the hotel. Wesley’s still feverishly looking for options in his books while Fred’s finishing patching up Lorne while Gunn watches over Cordelia and Connor. Angel puts a hand on Lorne’s shoulder in apology before rushing upstairs and relieving Gunn.

The minute Angel sits down everything starts to whirl and he just catches a glimpse of Cordelia’s still face before everything becomes dark and confused and alone.

He’s sitting in his room like he always is and he has no concept of time. Time is bad. Time means more kills. Time means people hurt. He’s gotta save them, gotta save them, gotta save them.

But dead…they’re dead. He’s not right. He didn’t save them. Doyle…gone. One seven one. One seven one. He’ll save this one. A girl. A girl. She’s eaten. 

No chains. No chains today. His wrists are red, red, red. Blood. Where was blood? He needs blood. But blood is bad. So much blood, the girl’s blood. Buffy was blood. Stay away. Stay away. Bad soul, keep the soul, don’t hurt the girl. She’s being eaten.

One seven one. One seven one. Wesley save one seven one. Wesley save one seven one.

There’s a light and he shies away from it. Light bad, light burns. But the wall's there and he uses it, doesn’t look at her.

Who is she?

"No, I'm afraid. I'm afraid. I'm afraid."

"Shh. Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

"I'm fine. Fine. One seven one. One seven one. You'll see. You'll see, one seven one. My head doesn't hurt. My head doesn't hurt. Now I'm warm. My head doesn't hurt."

"You don't remember me, do you?"

"I was there. I wanted to die. But-but I was-was afraid to die. So afraid to die. One seven one."

"Shh, Angel, it's okay. Everything is gonna be okay."

She’s close. Shouldn’t be close. Hurt her. Don’t hurt her. She’s right, so right, what he needs. He was wrong. One seven one. 

"It was my fault. I was there. I couldn't do anything. There was nothing I could do."

"Everything is gonna be okay."

Close. So close. Lips on his, lips on his, and there’s blue and light and he stops.

And Angel lifts his head, wondering why he’s crouched over his empty bed like he’s mourning something.

He has a feeling something important is missing, but he has no idea what. Did he miss something in one of his visions? He does that. He has a hard time always distinguishing reality from his visions.

Wesley came back from Reseda and said he saved the girl, didn’t he? Yes, no, yes.

Angel shakes his head. He can’t slip back into madness. No madness, it’s not allowed.

Something’s changed, he’s sure of it. Wasn’t he at Wesley’s before? Now he’s in the Hyperion. Yes, his hotel. They help the helpless. They have cards. With…weird images on them and there’s brown hair swimming in his vision.

“Angel, are you okay?” Wesley asks, poking his head in the door.

Wesley doesn’t leave him alone very much. Angel isn’t locked up, but he’s never alone.

“Wesley, you saved that girl, right?”

“I did. She’s fine,” Wesley says, speaking carefully.

“But something’s not right.”

“Are you having another vision?”

“No, no, but I shouldn’t have them. No, no, I should, I just didn’t before.”

“Yes, Doyle had them, remember?”

“Not Doyle,” Angel says, shoving away that painful memory. “No, who’s the girl?”

“The girl from your vision?”

“No, no, she had brown hair. I knew her, I knew her. She was…”

Angel loses his train of thought and Wesley sighs, bringing in some blood for him in a mug.

Angel takes it into the other room and swears he smells cinnamon somewhere.

“Where’s my son?” he calls to Wesley.

Wesley comes closer.

“Angel, you don’t have a son.”

“No, I do. Darla, she…”

Angel drinks his blood and gives the mug back to Wesley and heads downstairs to look at the books. Maybe the girl was there.

He hears Gunn and Wesley whispering about him, about how they might need to protect him from himself again.

“He was doing so well for awhile,” Wesley says, sounding worried. “He’d been almost rational.”

“Feel a bit out of it myself,” Gunn replies.

“Oddly, I also feel this strange sense of missing something,” Wesley says. “I don’t know, maybe he’s onto something and he just doesn’t have enough rationality to put it together.”

“I’m rational,” Angel says loudly. “I am, Wes. I just forgot her. And we have to remember her. Just find something for our memories, Wes, please.”

Wesley looks at him sadly then picks up some of his books.

“What am I looking for?”

“Don’t patronize me,” Angel snaps, then feels bad. “Sorry, I just…I know I’m right. Don’t ask me how I know.”

“Maybe you are,” Wesley says. “But you have to tell me what to look for.”

“A girl, working with us. She had brown hair. Didn’t we know her before? She was…she was in Sunnydale.”

Wesley exchanges glances with Gunn. They’re doubting his sanity again.

“Angel, the only girls in Sunnydale were Buffy and Willow. Unless you mean…unless you mean Faith.”

The ex-Watcher’s emotions are evident in his voice but Angel dismisses the idea.

“Not Faith. She’s different. She’s in plays. No, she was. She’s really bad at it. But she fooled me once. There was a ghost who liked her. And she was mad at me for firing her. And she held my son and she talked to me like I was real.”

“Angel, I…don’t know what to tell you.”

“Just can’t you look and see if something’s been done to our memories?”

“I can run some tests,” Wesley says. “Just let me work on it, okay? But can we agree that if you have a vision that it will take precedence over this research?”

Angel reluctantly agrees and accepts Gunn’s offer to spar in the basement.

Except he never used to spar with Gunn in the basement. No, someone else worked with him there. And she was hard-working and she’d punched him once. And he was just so angry, if only he could remember properly.

It takes Wesley three days before he can come up with something he’ll pronounce safe. Angel’s been growing more and more agitated, less and less rational. But finally he and Wesley and Gunn sit on the floor in the lobby and Wesley performs a memory spell on them.

The lights spark and fade as if being drained and watching them flicker, Angel suddenly remembers. He remembers Sunnydale with a drama queen drooling over Wesley. He remembers coming to LA and being happy to see her at a party, rescuing her from vampires. He remembers her making him charge for his services. He remembers Doyle traipsing after her and her reluctant admission of feelings for him. And the visions, how she fought them so hard at first until she’d gotten marked and been in the hospital and seen how much hurt there was.

He remembered them moving into the hotel and her chastisement over his obsession with Darla and her hurt and anger when he fired them and her refusal to accept him back into their lives until he’d bought her clothes. He remembered her being sucked into Pylea and being a princess and him being desperate to save her.

And they’d come back and she’d comforted him after Buffy’s death and bolstered him when Darla had been pregnant and she’d helped him with Connor and she’d been lying about her health and she’d fallen into a coma and hadn’t she kissed him?

Cordelia Chase.

But where was she? She was just gone, erased from their lives. And now Fred wasn’t there because they’d never gone to Pylea and he’d never slept with Darla and Connor wasn’t alive and they barely ever spoke to Lorne and Wesley was missing an arm when he wasn’t supposed to.

It was all wrong. Everything without Cordelia was wrong. 

“Do you remember?” he asks the other men frantically.

“Cordelia,” Wesley says, nodding. “Oh, Fred.”

“How do we fix this?” Gunn asks.

“We need to speak to the Powers,” Angel says. “They obviously did something. But what?”

He’s a lot more clear thinking now that he remembers what should have happened, but the visions are still so fresh in his head and the guilt of centuries and Cordelia wasn’t there to snap him out of it.

“Let’s go see the Host,” Wesley suggests.

So they troop off to Caritas and the instant the demon sees them, he whistles.

“What magic you been messing with, cupcakes?” 

“Do you remember Cordelia Chase?” Angel asks.

“Cordelia who? Angel strudel, I need a bit more than a name. I need a tune, but I know you don’t carry any.”

“But you came and you gave without taking, because you took me away, oh, Mandy,” Angel sings immediately, the first and nearest song to his heart.

Lorne steps back as if physically repelled.

“Hold on there, my little porkchop. No more, please. That is one potent destiny awry. Okay, you need to get our little Cordelia back along with Fredikins and the munchkin.”

“You remembered just from that?” Gunn asked incredulously.

“Our boy here is carrying quite the memory torch, if you get my drift,” Lorne says, winking at them. “Now, got some good news and some bad news. The good news is Cordelia’s not gone. I can sense her destiny is still strong, it’s just not where it’s supposed to be. The bad news is I can’t sense her. Who she’s supposed to be is entangled with something else that I can’t see.”

“What can we do?” Angel asks.

“Summon her essence perhaps?” Wesley muses.

“I like it, but if I could add one or two teensy suggestions?” Lorne asks. “After my set.”

“Now!” Angel grounds out.

Lorne looks at him and then walks off mumbling something about re-grown horns.

Angel isn’t thinking about that. He’s simply too anxious. Now that he knows what he’s missing he’s anxious to get it back. He needs Cordelia. He wants his son. He has to save Fred.

They go back to the hotel and Lorne and Wesley start arranging things. Angel only catches every other phrase or so in his agitated state.

“A demon?” Wesley says sharply.

“…essence trapped,” Lorne says.

“…for a fact?”

“…destiny…visions…two realities…”

“How can we do it without…previous…reality…unhinged…protect the body.”

Angel tunes them out because he can’t concentrate.

“You feeling okay, man?” Gunn asks. “You’re not going wacky again, are you?”

“I just need her back,” Angel says and then goes where Wesley directs.

They end up in Angel’s room, hours later, the last place any of them remember seeing Cordelia. 

Wesley lights a few candles and sprinkles some incense and paints a few symbols on the wall.

He grabs a book, but mostly reads from a scrap of paper that Lorne’s been scribbling on.

“This could be dangerous,” Wesley says.

“Not if it brings her back,” Angel says clearly.

Wesley looks him right in the eyes and smiles.

“I know.”

There’s a flashing light and Wesley starts chanting. The candles flare up and Angel starts to see the outline of a body on the bed. It’s her, it’s her, it’s her. But there’s the sound of a woman screaming and Lorne grabs Wesley’s arm and shouts in his ear, but Angel can’t hear over the screaming and the wind that’s magically rushing around the room. His eyes can’t adjust to the blinding light and he blinks and when he opens his eyes again, there are stars. There’s a body on the bed and it looks like the solid body of Cordelia Chase. But she’s not wearing the sweatshirt she was the last time he saw her. She’s in a dress and her hair is long and darker and he’s actually missed her long hair.

Then he realizes that she’s screaming uncontrollably.


	4. Part Four: Demonized Already

Cordelia’s in more pain than she can ever remember in any lifetime, in any physical state.

And then it’s over.

She’s in…Angel’s room, the hotel, and he’s looming over her. She can see the relief and the knowledge in his eyes.

"What's happening to her?" comes Fred’s voice from somewhere in the background, but Cordelia only looks at Angel.

He lunges forward and crushes her to him and she’d like to remind him about the whole vampire strength thing in a tart tone of voice.

"I thought I'd lost you."

"Angel," she says and she’s so relieved to be back in the hotel with him, in the right reality, and with the right…

No, things are different and she’s not sure if she should be checking for weird demon parts or Kyra the Seer evil tendencies so she does a quick inventory.

Kyra’s memories: check. Visions: check. Feelings: Big check. Desire to maim: Not present. Desire to run through grass: Check.

Now for the physical stuff. She grabs the top of her head.

"No horns." She grabs her backside. "No tail." They all look at her like she’s crazy. "Whew! Just checking." She gets off the bed and stretches because she’s herself again. More fully herself than ever even if she’s sporting a new hairdo and wearing a fantastic dress that is, unfortunately, missing the earrings that match. "It feels so good to be me again."

"Cordelia, what is the last thing you remember?" Wesley asks, going into serious Watcher mode and she has to smile because she’s missed it so.

"When? I've been so... Oh, you mean the vision downstairs. No, I had a vision, but it's been taken care of.”

“Yes, we know,” Wesley says. “But do you remember anything else?”

“I remember a lot of things,” Cordelia says, grinning. “There was this actress, and a one-armed guy.” Wesley glances at his arm suddenly and stumbles back, like he’s not used to it anymore. “Not to mention demons, Elders, and witches. But right now, we have to solve my vision."

"The one we just said was taken care of?" Lorne asks incredulously.

"No, the one I'm having right now. There is a young man in a park in Glendale. Uh, somewhere near a pond. There is a demon waiting for him. He's red with four, no make that five horns. It’s going to happen in….ooh, not till tomorrow, so everybody stand down."

Their faces change as she talks and what’s eating them, she wonders, before she notices they’re kind of flickering in and out of focus.

"Uh, Cordy?" Angel says, pointing.

"What?" she asks, before looking down at herself. She’s the one flickering in and out, or should she say shimmering? “Yes!” she says, shooting her arms up. “Shimmer power still on. This is going to make shopping so much easier.”

It’s not over yet by a long shot because they all have so many questions, so they all settle down into various spots around the room and Cordelia notes with pleasure that Angel’s not leaving her side.

She explains everything. Her vision coma, her actress reality, her demonization that somehow ended up making her full demon, creating an alternate reality, then her death. 

“That’s all I know,” she says and then they tell her about their reality where Angel had Doyle’s visions and remembered her and they did spells to remember her and get her back.

“So when they turned me into the Seer, I really became her,” Cordelia surmises. “So when you were trying to pull me back, excellent timing, by the way, it pulled back the body I was currently in which explains the hair and clothes. But why didn’t it just pull back a full-blooded demon?”

“I would hypothesize,” Wesley says, “without being certain since I’d have to research it, that because you remembered who you really were before we pulled you back, that took care of the mental aspect of your current state. As for the body, well, Lorne could sense your essence had been changed and interrupted me mid-spell, demanding we call for the human Cordelia Chase.”

“Then why the shimmer shimmer fun?”

“Perhaps the Powers realized they screwed up and fixed their reality-bending mistake,” Angel supplies.

“Or you needed time to learn how to control the visions with a demon’s powers and so they gave you that mental time,” Wesley added.

“Or maybe I won’t trust Skip so much the next time we meet,” Cordelia mutters under her breath. 

She’s not sure of everything that happened, but she’s so glad to be home. So glad to be herself. Really wanting to test out her new shimmer power. And also…

“Where’s Connor?” she asks, grinning. “Where’s cute baby face?”

Angel practically leaps into the other room and retrieves his son, depositing him into Cordelia’s waiting arms.

“He missed you,” Angel says.

“He’s less than a year old,” Cordelia says, rolling her eyes.

“He knows you,” Angel repeats.

Cordelia is too busy kissing and squeezing the baby to answer. Connor giggles and flails his arms around and Cordelia spares a quick moment to give Piper a mental apology for ever doubting that spending time with babies was something precious.

“Never gonna leave you again,” Cordelia says, kissing his cheek.

“Good,” Angel says from behind her.

Cordelia’s really tired and wants to go home. Angel insists on going with her so Lorne watches the baby while the others go home, Wesley grabbing books to take with him.

She wants to shimmer but Angel refuses and drives her.

When Cordelia opens her door she’s met with a rush of air that could be construed as a full body hug from anyone non-corporeal. 

“Dennis, I missed you too,” Cordelia says, laughing. “Don’t worry. Not in a coma, not a full demon, totally back to stay.”

A blanket pulls out over her couch and Cordelia falls down on it, patting the spot next to her.

Angel sits down and clears his throat nervously.

“I know you’re mad at me,” Cordelia tells him. “I heard it all doing the ghost thing. I’m sorry, really sorry, but no lectures, okay?”

“I-I’m just glad you’re okay. I’m surprised you even remember that considering what happened in between.”

“I never forget anything you say to me,” Cordelia says. “I may ignore the hell out of it, but I remember it.”

“I’ll remember that,” he says, finally letting the lines in his forehead relax.

“I’m totally older than you now,” she says thoughtfully, pondering the possibilities. “I can’t really remember how old, but you’re like a little baby compared to me now.”

“Yet you act just the same.”

“Duh, I’m me. Anyway…Kyra’s a distant memory, I’m pretty sure everything she did, or I did as her, was only real from about the last few months or so. Everything else just a memory implanted from the Powers or whoever did the transfer.”

“If you need any help…getting used to the memories…”

“I’ll manage, but thank you. I know who to come to for mid-millennia crises.”

“Maybe some things need to change,” he says. “Obviously your acting career is or was more important than any of us thought. With the visions not being so debilitating now maybe you can-“

“Acting…not important,” she cuts him off. “You want to know why I said yes to the offer?”

“Yes.”

“Because I heard you. In the Conduit, telling them I was weak.”

She looks down at her hands, not wanting to look in his eyes and see the reminder of his face at that moment.

“I was weak,” he says and then she looks at him. “I was so angry at you for not telling me and so scared you would die. I thought you were being careless with your own life and that would have made anything okay so long as you didn’t die. You saw what I was like without you in my life. I need you.”

He ducks his head, looking embarrassed.

She’s literally melting inside and that’s slightly embarrassing for an eon old part demon chick with visions.

“I remembered you too,” she finally says, reaching over to take his hand. “And what’s why I came back. I need you too.”

“I can’t go through that again,” he tells her, voice cracking.

“Not really a picnic for me either,” she tells him bluntly. “Not wanting to do it again. Also…demon memories are really gross and evil. True demons anyway, not the good ones like Lorne, and if I ever develop a habit of keeping cauldrons and mixing stuff in them, you have my permission to vanquish me.”

“No.”

She smiles at him.

“Idiot.”

“I guess that means you don’t want your present.”

“No…wanting, still wanting.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the small box and hands it to her.

She opens it carefully and pulls out a beautiful necklace with a filigreed heart hanging from a fine chain. The chain was gold and the heart a light red textured with gold. It was exquisite.

“Angel…” she breathes out. “It’s so gorgeous. Thank you.”

He grins at her and she loves his smile so much.

“I…thought since you’re like our heart, like Fred said, that it was appropriate.”

“Flatter me,” she says and leans across, kissing his cheek.

She doesn’t move away again, but settles against his side. He stiffens under her for a second, but then puts his arms around her while she fingers with the necklace.

“It’s easy,” he says and she wonders if he means something more than just flattering her.

“The easiest thing in the world,” she replies and she knows she does mean something more.


	5. Epilogue: Charmed One

Phoebe opens the mailbox on her way back from her run. Vanquishing demons keeps her fit, but she still likes to run. It gives her a chance to clear her head.

There’s a postcard with a beautiful picture of the Golden Gate Bridge and she flips it over to see who it’s for.

It’s for her, postmarked from LA from a Cordelia Chase. Phoebe doesn’t know anyone named Cordelia Chase.

Curious, she reads the message.

_Dear Phoebe,_

_Thanks for the dress. Hope the earrings made it out okay. I’m just checking in to make sure everything’s good. I know I am._

_If you’re ever in LA, look me up at the Hyperion Hotel. If not, maybe I’ll just have to make it to the park and run through that grass on my own._

_We vision girls have to stick together after all._

_-Cordelia Chase_

Phoebe’s lips curl up into a smile and she tucks the postcard into her pocket.


End file.
